Ice
by Rabiscar
Summary: Bellarke High School AU: "The boys continued to shoot pucks at her but she only skated faster, whirling around the ice in intricate serpentine step patterns. Bellamy watched with his eyes narrowed. He was annoyed but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't impressed. The girl could skate." Clarke is a figure skater & Bellamy is captain of the hockey team- they both need more ice time.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

* * *

><p>Bellamy Blake charged out of the locker room followed by a horde of boys clad in pads and practice jerseys, all toddling on flat ground in their skates. He stepped into the arena and took a deep breath, relishing the smell of cold air and fresh ice. His smile faltered as he reached the rink.<p>

"Hey!" he shouted. "Time to cool down and get off the ice, it's past 3:30, you're cutting into our time!"

A small blonde girl landed a double axel and turned to face him.

"Don't think so," she said evenly and skated towards him. "We're just starting, I booked the ice for a two hour block _starting_ at 3:30."

"And who the hell are you?"

"Clarke Griffin," she answered. "Captain of the skate-team." Her eyes dropped to the C on his jersey. "And let me guess, you'd be Bellamy Blake, captain of the hockey team?"

"Does this look like a curling broom to you?" he held up his stick.

"Not particularly," she commented drily. "Just trying to get the formalities out of the way but I guess I should have known better than to try."

"Right," Bellamy gritted his teeth. "Well let me formally tell you to get off the ice."

Clarke looked from him to the figure skaters behind her.

"You know what, I think we'll stay."

"No," Bellamy shook his head. "Not an option. Not sure if you noticed but I didn't formally _request_ you to leave, I formally _told_ you to leave."

"That's not how this is going to work," Clarke wrinkled her nose. "You might have authority over them," she nodded to the hockey players behind him. "But you don't have any authority over me."

"Wanna bet?" Bellamy asked. "I booked the rink. We've got a big game coming up, we need the ice time."

"So?" Clarke challenged. "They must have double booked us. We've got a big comp coming up, we need the ice time just as much."

"Sure," Bellamy scoffed. "But last time I checked, the hockey program takes priority over the skate program at this school so I'll do whatever the hell I want."

"Whatever the hell you want, huh?" Clarke looked him up and down. "That's the rules you want to play by?"

"Damn right," he nodded.

"Fine by me," Clarke sniffed. "I guess I'll do whatever the hell I want too," she put her hands on her hips. "Raven, Finn- go ahead and start warming up," she called over her shoulder. The two skaters behind her shrugged and took off, skating laps around the rink. Clarke turned her attention back to Bellamy.

"You practice in that half of the ice and we'll practice in this half," she nodded towards him.

"Yeah," Bellamy exhaled, "and what do you expect me to do with half a rink? I've got 18 guys out here."

"You figure it out, you're the captain, aren't you?" Clarke reminded him. "Why don't you set up pylons and do some skating drills?" She asked and surveyed his team appraisingly. "You guys look like you could use it."

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "So now the figure skater is a hockey coach too? Got any more advice for me?"

"It doesn't take a hockey coach to see you've got some sloppy skaters. What sort of defenseman can't even skate backwards?" she nodded towards a burly boy scrambling towards the net.

"Kovacevic can skate," Bellamy grunted but shot the boy a worried look.

"If you say so," Clarke raised her eyebrows. "Anyways, I'm not leaving."

"Fine," Bellamy set his lips in a firm line. "I'm not either."

"Fine," Clarke echoed him. "Just stay on your side of the ice." And with that she turned neatly on her blades and skated away.

Bellamy watched her go, her long blond hair streaming out behind her as she glided gracefully across the ice.

"Scotty, Bielsko," he barked. "Drag the net over to centre ice."

Scotty hesitated. "But then we'll be shooting _towards_ them."

"Exactly," Bellamy huffed at him. "Consider it a high stakes practice in aim."

What started out as a scrimmage with a few stray pucks sliding into the skate-team's end quickly devolved into half the hockey team just standing around and shooting at whichever figure skater appeared accessible. Slowly, the skate-team straggled off the ice, unwilling to go flying into the air in a toe loop when wrist-shots were being aimed at their feet. Only one figure skater remained- Clarke.

The boys continued to shoot pucks at her but she only skated faster, whirling around the ice in intricate serpentine step patterns and evading shots with crossovers around corners. She glared at them unflinchingly the entire time, her skates cutting sharp edges in the ice and her swift footwork leaving elaborate trace patterns.

Bellamy watched with his eyes narrowed and his hockey stick clutched across his body. He was annoyed. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little bit impressed. The girl could _skate. _

"Goddammit," he grunted. "We're not quitting practice for _one_ girl. We need the ice time," he glanced up at the clock. They only had an hour left of practice.

"Alright, quit shooting," he waved off his boys. "Hey!" he shouted. "Princess!" he skated furiously down the ice towards her.

"I thought I told you to stay on your side," she replied coolly.

"And I thought I told you to get the hell out of the rink," he bit back, stopping quickly and spraying her with ice.

"Nice," she said flatly and brushed the snow off her leggings before placing her hands firmly on her hips. They seemed to be running into a pattern.

"Your team is already in the locker room," Bellamy said through gritted teeth. "You'd be a lot better off if you followed them out," he brandished his stick.

"Why, what are you gonna do?" she jutted out her chin. "Drop your gloves?"

Bellamy swallowed. His eyes flitted to his team mates who were watching with interest. "Brave princess," he broke into a grin and shifted forward so he could tower over her. She tilted her head up to stare at him impudently, hands still on her hips and her toe pick ground into the ice.

"That's it," he said and reached towards her. "You're out of here." In one smooth motion he lifted her by the waist and straightened his arms to hoist her in the air.

She squealed in surprise but the sound quickly turned into ground out threats.

"Put me _down,_ Blake."

"Or what?" he asked and wrapped one arm around her waist while pulling her legs to his hip by tugging from behind her knees. "You're not in a position to be giving orders." He dipped her head backward while skating toward the boards.

She arched her back reflexively, balancing out her weight in the lift.

"I swear to God, Blake. If you drop me and I'm injured for this comp-"

"Then you won't be able to steal my ice time for the length of your recovery," he finished for her in a bored tone. "Hm, I think I'm going to drop you."

His arms gave way and she dropped an inch towards the ice. She gasped but at the last second he caught her and kept skating.

He came to a stop at the boards and straightened her out, lowering her to her feet. One arm firmly around her waist, he used the other arm to reach over the board and jerk the door open, before roughly shoving her through to the other side. He slammed the door shut between them and sized her up with a glare.

"You're an ass," she declared.

"And you're a pain in the ass."

"I'm just going to keep coming back out on the ice."

"Well I'm just going to keep carrying you back out here."

"You caught me off guard the first time, there's no way in hell you'll be able to catch me a second time."

"You think you're a faster skater than me?"

"I _know_ I'm a _better _skater than you."

"It's 18 vs 1, you sure you want to play tag?"

She sighed and bit her lip.

"We done here?" Bellamy asked and gestured between them.

"No," Clarke insisted. "This isn't over."

"It is for today," he called and started skating towards his team mates.

"Alright," he said when he reached them. "Get that net back at the end of the ice, let's scrimmage while we still have the time."

Clarke huffed and put her skate guards on, marching out of the rink with her hands balled into fists at her side. She wandered around the back offices until she found what she was looking for- the fuse box. She opened it up and hit the switch for the lights in the rink.

She smiled as she heard a chorus of surprised shouts coming from the ice.

"Let's see them try to chase the puck in the dark." 

* * *

><p>The following day, Bellamy and Clarke sat side by side in the principal's office.<p>

"It wasn't a mistake Miss Griffin, we booked you _both_ for the 3:30 time slot after school."

"What? But sir, why? This is so impractical, I had the ice booked first."

"Don't think so, princess. We've been practicing in that time slot every week since the beginning of the season," Bellamy jeered.

"Enough," Principal Jaha cut in. "Due to budget cuts, the school is no longer able to buy as much time at the public rink. You're going to have to make do and share the ice."

"But sir, it doesn't make sense. Why doesn't the boys' hockey team share the ice with the girls' hockey team? Then they could at least use the full rink together and train doing the same drills."

To his surprise, Bellamy found himself nodding along with Clarke's idea.

"The public rink has rules about how many athletes can take the ice at a given time. With the boys and girls' hockey teams together there would be 36 athletes on the ice- that's over capacity."

"So I'm stuck with her?" Bellamy groaned. "How are we supposed to share the ice, _and _get ready for the big game, its impossible."

Principal Jaha smiled. "That's something you'll have to work out on your own. Put your heads together, I'm sure you'll think of something."

"But sir!" they both intoned together.

"Enough," he said again. "I don't want to hear another word about it. This is your responsibility to work out," his lips twitched when glared at each other venomously. "But work it out on your own time. That means get out of my office."

Clarke sighed and stomped out the door with Bellamy hot on her heels.

When he was halfway out the door Principal Jaha spoke.

"And Mr. Blake?" he said without looking up from the paper he was marking up in pen.

"Yes?" Bellamy swiveled his head to look at him.

"Forcibly remove another skater from the ice and _I_ will remove you from the hockey team."

Principal Jaha continued to stare down at his paperwork. Bellamy swallowed hard.

"Yes sir," he said, his voice a throaty rasp. He closed the door behind him and jogged down the hallway to catch up with Clarke.

"Hey," he caught her by the elbow and spun her around. "What the hell?"

"What?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Forcibly removed a skater? Seriously?" he demanded. "God, I can't believe you told Jaha."

"Actually, I didn't," Clarke pursed her lips. "Must have been one of my skaters. Either way, you're really going to complain because we're not okay with you just manhandling us out of your way?"

His face contorted in anger. "Listen, princess-"

"No, you listen," she pushed him in the chest. "Hockey isn't the only sport at this school suffering from budget cuts. If you want to get anywhere with your team then you're going to have to work _with _me because we're stuck with this situation, regardless of whether we asked for it or not."

"I don't have to do anything with you," he snarled. "There's six of you and eighteen of us- you guys can find a frozen parking lot to train in. We'll be taking the ice."

"Are you stupid?" Clarke blurted out. "Did you not listen to a word Jaha said? His attitude is work it out or suck it up. He doesn't give a shit about your hockey season, he's got bigger problems. The school is _strapped for cash_. If he thinks we're more trouble than we're worth he's going to shut down _both_ of our programs."

"He can't," Bellamy shook his head. "We need this. _I _need this." He pushed a hand through his hair and stared at the ground. "How the fuck am I supposed to get scouted for college if he shuts down the program."

Clarke bobbed her head in agreement. "Right? Listen, you're not the only one trying to get in at a D1 school with a free ride."

Bellamy looked up at her sharply.

"It's not like _you _need an athletic scholarship. Your mom's a doctor, haven't you already got a free ride?"

Clarke raised an eyebrow. "Someone's done their homework." Colour rose in Bellamy's cheeks but his challenging stare never wavered from her face. So maybe he _had _asked around about her.

"Shut up," he brushed her off. "I'm just saying you don't need the money, you don't really need the ice time."

"Just because my mom's a doctor doesn't mean I want to be at her mercy every time I need a dollar," Clarke said darkly. "I don't want to owe her anything," she mumbled.

Bellamy cocked his head and opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't ask," Clarke shook her head. "Just trust me on this one. I need scholarship money. That means I need this to work. We _all_ need this to work. So work _with me_ here."

Bellamy clenched his jaw and cast a long glance at Principal Jaha's office.

"You really think he'd cut the hockey program?" he asked in a low voice.

"I think he forced us to practice together because he's hoping we'll implode so he doesn't _have to_ cut the program. He's banking on us failing so he can blame it on us and he doesn't have to be the bad guy who cut funding to sports and the arts."

"No way," Bellamy breathed, his eyes shifting from the office to Clarke. "That's _dark_."

"Think about it," she said quietly. "Some kids are only able to be here thanks to subsidy funding. If the choice is between cutting a kid's education or cutting sports teams what would you choose?"

"_I'm _on subsidy funding," Bellamy admitted, drumming his fingertips against his thigh. "I get it, I'd never be able to afford SAT prep or AP exams on my own, but the hockey program is for my _future." _He stopped talking abruptly and turned and looked at Clarke as if he'd only just noticed she was there. He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

"Alright, let's work this out," he said firmly. "What are your demands, princess?"

"I don't have demands, I just don't want you to be an asshole," she responded and Bellamy promptly rolled his eyes.

"Your little stunt shooting pucks at my skaters could have seriously injured one of them. No more bullshit. I don't want my guys getting hurt and neither do you. Neither of our teams can afford an injury at the moment. Last thing we need is some freshman taking a skate to the face because he wandered a little too close to a layback spin."

"I don't know what that is," Bellamy said in a rush and rolled his eyes. Clarke glared at him.

"Alright, so no more shooting at your skaters," he raised his hands. "What else?"

Clarke bit her lip and started walking.

"Well we still have to sort out how we'll split the ice time," she said as Bellamy fell into step beside her. "Why don't we take the first hour after school and you take the second hour?"

"No, I can't run hour-long practices- its too short," Bellamy shook his head as they entered the cafeteria. "We'd spend half the time doing warm-ups and cool-downs and get hardly any tactics in."

"Okay, what if you warmed them up with dry land training, we split the ice for an hour of drills and jump training and then we split the second hour?" Clarke asked. "You'll get a half hour for full rink scrimmages and I'll get a half hour for us to run our routines using the whole space."

Bellamy crossed his arms and worked his jaw thoughtfully.

"Less than ideal," he muttered.

"But probably our best option for the time being, right?"

"Probably," he agreed. "Alright princess," he stuck his hand out. "You've got yourself a deal." 


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Bellamy sucked in a deep breath and pushed himself forward. He cut through an array of pylons and ignored the burning in his calves. He jerked his head up and slapped the ice with his stick, demanding the puck. He pulled down the pass easily and flicked the puck into the net, sending it sailing over the goalie's shoulder. He collected the puck and skated back to the end of the line, urging the boys on as he did.<p>

"PUSH," he called out. "Dig deep, boys- last minute!"

He leaned on his stick and watched the boys skate through the circuit.

"C'mon," he shouted. "Keep the intensity up! Remember, practice how you play!"

He was just about to call time when he heard a high-pitched whistle from behind him. He turned around to see Clarke standing at centre-ice.

"Bellamy," she bayed and touched the watch on her wrist. "It's 4:30."

He nodded and turned back to the boys.

"Alright," he yelled out, "clean up and get to the bench, we're scrimmaging."

The boys promptly stopped what they were doing and started scooping up pucks and pylons. Bellamy watched with a satisfied smirk as they quickly cleared the ice. That smirk turned into a grimace when he noticed two boys standing off to the side and pointing at the figure skaters exiting the rink. Murphy was lining up a shot, his stick swinging back in preparation for a slapshot in the skaters' direction. Bellamy closed the space between them and sent Murphy flying with a hip check.

"Ughh," Murphy groaned from his prone position splayed out on the ice.

Bellamy slid to a stop and stood over him.

"We're not doing that anymore," he said firmly.

"Right," Murphy coughed. Bellamy grasped his wrist and hauled him to his feet.

"Get to the bench," he said and pushed him away roughly. "And if I catch you shooting at the skaters again then you'll stay there."

Bellamy led the boys in a scrimmage for half an hour before turning the ice back over to the skaters.

"All yours," he said as he hopped over the boards, the last hockey player to leave the ice.

"Thanks," Clarke replied and pulled off her skate guards. Bellamy watched her skate out hand in hand with her partner Wells. The music started and the pair sprung into action, spinning away from one another. Bellamy shook his head and started toward the locker room for a shower.

The locker room was rowdy as always. The boys shouted and sang over the sound of the rushing water but Bellamy was quiet. He ducked his head to stand under the shower head and let the hot water beat down on his shoulders. When he was done he traipsed into the change room and sat down on the bench, wiping his hands on the towel drawn at his waist. He pushed his sopping hair out of his eyes and reached for a yellow pad of paper in his bag, ignoring the boys dancing and whooping around him. He scribbled on the pad and then stood quickly to his feet, toweling off and pulling on sweats and a Henley before rushing back out to the rink.

Bellamy rolled his eyes to see Clarke still out on the ice. They'd only been practicing together for a week but she was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. It was past 5:30 and she was just coming off the rink, smiling at the kinder-skate kids who entered as she left.

"Hey," Bellamy grunted and stopped Clarke with a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," she frowned, fixing him with a puzzled look.

"Relax, princess, I won't keep you," he rolled his eyes. "I just gotta ask you about practice tomorrow."

"Alright," Clarke agreed testily. "Shoot."

He took a breath.

"Do you mind if we do the full rink half-hours first and then share the ice for the last hour? I want to start practice with a skeleton scrimmage so we can work out our positioning. I need them to learn the positioning first so that my drills make sense."

His hands twitched at his sides and he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. Clarke did not fail to notice.

"Yeah, sure," she raised an eyebrow. "That's fine for tomorrow," she shrugged. "Let's just not make it a regular thing- we need the time to practice jumps before we have to do them in our routine practice."

"Fine by me," Bellamy nodded. "It's just a one-time thing, honest."

Clarke's eyebrows furrowed but her lips tugged into a bemused smile.

"Yeah, alright then," she nodded and adjusted her watch on her wrist. "See you in the morning."

"The morning?" Bellamy pulled a face.

"Yeah," Clarke nodded, "bright and early, 5 am," she raised her eyebrows.

Bellamy stared at her blankly.

"Wait," she leaned towards him. "Jaha didn't talk to you?"

He shook his head.

"He changed the arena booking," Clarke said. "We're on 5 am practices from now on. He didn't tell you?" she cocked her head.

He shook his head again.

"Hm," Clarke said and dropped her gaze to the floor, shoulders hunching and hand rising to thumb over her bottom lip. "What is he up to," she hummed.

Bellamy's hands curled into fists and his chest expanded. This time Clarke was oblivious.

"Initially I thought he was trying to run us out with the early start time," she buzzed and ran a hand through her hair. "I was little offended to be honest- as if we'd give up practice to sleep in," she rolled her eyes.

"No, it's more than that," Bellamy interrupted her rambling. She looked up at him and waited expectantly.

"He's baiting me," Bellamy murmured, his voice low.

Clarke squinted at him and her mouth puckered.

"He wants me to think that you switched our ice time without telling me," he grit his teeth. "He wants me to fly off the handle so he'll have an excuse to remove me from the team. I've been in Jaha's office enough times for fighting- he knows I've got a temper."

Clarke's forehead wrinkled.

"So you think this is personal? He has a vendetta against you and wants you off the team?" She asked in disbelief.

"No," Bellamy barked out a laugh. "Nothing personal. Jaha's too clinical. But axe the captain and watch the team crumble," he lifted his hands resignedly.  
>Clarke stared at him appraisingly. "Then you better not give him a reason to axe you."<p>

Bellamy raised his eyes to hers and scowled, sucking in a breath as he did.

"That's not a threat," she said hurriedly and placed a placating hand on his arm. "I'm just saying," she shrugged, "don't do anything stupid."

His glare softened and he dragged his gaze to the floor before giving her a curt nod.

"We know his game," Clarke said. "We just can't take the bait," she looked at him pointedly.

He nodded again, unfurling his fists as he did so.

"Alright," she said and gave his arm a squeeze. "So tomorrow then."

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "Bright and early, 5 am."

But the next morning, Bellamy awoke to a blaring alarm clock, a foot and a half of freshly fallen snow, and 17 texts on his phone. He groaned but dressed and packed his hockey bag anyway. It might have been a snow day, and his team mates might have planned on staying home, but he was taking advantage of their hour of ice time, snow be damned. The snow was still coming down hard when he left the house. Bellamy trudged down the street with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder. It was dark and cold but the streetlights glowed orange off of the snow. It was sort of peaceful.

He reached the arena and dressed quickly, leaving the shoulder pads in his bag and opting for just his underarmour, hockey pants, socks, and skates. He walked out of the locker room clutching his stick across his body with a bucket of pucks in one hand and a stack of pylons in the other. He stopped short when he reached the rink. It was predictably empty- except for one person.

Clarke glided down the ice, sweeping her hair up as she went. She closed her eyes and spun out, extending her arms widely. She started pumping her legs, gathering speed and hurtling forward before launching herself into the air. The power in her legs was explosive but she somehow made it graceful. She rotated around and around, her arms pulled tight to her chest, her ponytail whipping behind her. Bellamy was rooted to the spot, the stack of pylons and bucket of pucks in his hands largely forgotten. She came down hard on one blade and it was both violent and beautiful. She pushed and gathered speed again, flying into the air even higher this time. She missed the landing and fell heavily on her hip, sliding out across the ice. Bellamy inhaled sharply and took a step forward but she was back on her feet before he could move to open the door. He watched her jump and crash several more times in her pursuit of higher altitude. Each time she hauled herself to her feet and attacked the next jump with even greater fervor.

The pylons started sliding out of his arms and he hefted them up, shaking himself a little as he did so. He leaned an elbow down on the door latch and pushed through noisily, slamming the door behind him to announce his presence. Clarke whirled around to face him. She arched an eyebrow in his direction and he gave her a curt nod. He started lining his pylons up in a row and she coasted over to him.

"Hey," she said, closing the distance between them by navigating around his pylons deftly. "You're not gonna say hi?"

He looked up and bit back a smile.

"Hi."

She was close enough to him now that she had to slow her pace to wait for him to put out the next pylon. She kept following him as he dropped them on the ice.

"I didn't think anyone would come today," she said.

"That makes two of us," he replied.

"Your boys aren't coming?" she asked.

"Doesn't look like it," he dropped the last pylon and straightened up to face her.

She rounded the last corner and stopped short in front of him, standing with her arms crossed over her chest. He was close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

"So where are they?" she demanded.

"In bed, praying for a snow day," he grunted. "Where are your skaters?"

"Doing the same."

"But you're not," he met her eye.

Her lips tightened. "No," she shook her head. She almost smiled. "And neither are you."

The corner of his mouth pulled up. "No," he shook his head minutely.

They sized each other up for a brief second, mirroring each other's drawn mouths and smirking eyes.

"Alright," Clarke dropped her head, "half is mine, half is yours?" she asked.

"Like always," he confirmed with a nod.

They both turned and skated down to opposite ends of the rink. He worked on stick handling and skating drills while she practiced her jumps and spins. An hour went by quickly. Bellamy cleared the ice so Clarke could use the whole rink to run through her singles routine. When she had run through it twice she glided over to the boards, her hands resting on her hips.

"Alright, Blake, the rink is yours," she waved a hand. "What's it gonna be? Scrimmage against yourself?" she asked sardonically.

"I wish," he grimaced. "I was thinking suicides."

Clarke raised her eyebrows.

"Line to line?" she asked.

"Yup," he grunted and started skating down to the end of the ice. She followed.

He turned and started skating backwards.

"What?" he demanded.

"Can I do them with you?"

He grinned.

"You want to do suicides with me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," she shrugged.

"Well, alright," he turned back around. "Should we make a pact?"

Clarke rolled her eyes at his back but she couldn't stifle her smile.

"Alright, let's see what you're made of, princess," he said as he took his place behind the red line. Clarke positioned herself a few yards to his right. They both pushed off and raced down the ice. They dug in, trying hard to outpace the other and beat each other to the next line. Bellamy outstripped Clarke in the first few stretches, his long legs making up more ground than hers in the sprint. In the long run, Clarke caught up to him and nearly overtook him as they coasted through the last red line. They finished at the same time, hunched over with their hands on their thighs and their breaths coming hard and fast. Legs and lungs burning, cheeks red with effort, they turned to face each other. Bellamy frowned at her.

"Don't look so surprised," Clarke panted. "You play for 30 second shifts, I have a 6 minute program."

Bellamy grinned and straightened up, throwing his head back and trying to catch his breath.

He caught her eye, his lips twitching into a smile.

"Want to play a game?" 

* * *

><p>"What are you guys doing about conditioning?"<p>

"Oh, hi Bellamy, nice to see you too," Clarke looked up from spinning the dial on her locker.

"Yeah, yeah, hi," Bellamy rolled his eyes. "God, princess, you're so stuffy about greetings."

"What do you want?" Clarke asked as she shoved a textbook into her locker.

"I just told you," Bellamy huffed. "I asked you what you guys are doing about conditioning," he repeated.

"What do you mean?" she asked absently, her finger trailing along a line of binders on her shelf. Bellamy leaned against the locker next to hers.

"We used to work conditioning and cardio into practice," he explained. "But its harder now that we're in a small space, there's a lot more skills training."

"Just do circuits, keep them moving through the drills, and shorten the lines so there's less time waiting," Clarke shrugged. "Are you that concerned about conditioning? Some of these guys are doing two-a-days between school training and practice for their rep teams. If anything, you should be worried about _over_ working them," she said and slammed her locker shut.

"Maybe I'm not asking for them."

"Okay," she shot him a look. "Then who are you asking for?"

"Me."

"Well in that case you need to be worried about over working your _self_," she rolled her eyes.

He smiled wolfishly. "Trust me, I'm not worried."

"Bellamy, you're going to burn yourself out. I know you want to be better than them but your body has limits, you can't just be training for two teams and throw extra conditioning on top of that."

"I'm not training for two teams."

She stared at him and he shuffled his feet.

"I'm not on a rep team, okay?"

Silence. And then-

"Why wouldn't you be on a rep team?" she demanded.

He scowled and crossed his arms.

"Take a wild guess."

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Coaches kicked you off because you're too hot-headed?"

He snorted. "Take another guess."

"I don't know," she said again.

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Money, princess. Some of us actually have to think about it."

She swallowed. "You can't afford it?"

He shook his head.

"Have you _ever_ played rep?"

He shook his head again.

"But then how are you so good?" she blurted out. "Captain of the varsity team? And you've never been on a proper team?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I got a pair of skates at a thrift shop and practically lived out on the pond every winter. Played a lot of pick-up shinny down at the public rink. Practiced my footwork at free skates and played road hockey every summer with the boys in my neighbourhood."

She searched his face, her brows knitted together and lips pressed into a thin line.

"So that's why you raised hell when we were on the ice that first week. School practice is all you've got to get ready for showcase tournaments."

He lowered his gaze to the floor, his jaw ticking furiously.

"I can't afford to fall behind," he said quietly. He ducked his head and shouldered past her.

"Bellamy-" she called after him and reached for his arm.

He shook her off and kept walking.

"Later, princess."

* * *

><p>Bellamy entered the cramped library and scanned the room for a place to sit. It was far from a silent library- there was a steady hum of conversation coming from the students crammed in around study tables. Computers lined the far wall and round tables had been arranged haphazardly behind them to make more study space. Bellamy crossed the room and slammed his history textbook down on a round table behind a certain blonde situated at a computer.<p>

"Oh hi Clarke, nice to see you," he said when she turned around to find the source of the noise.

"Hey," she responded.

"Coming to the game tonight, princess?" he asked and stretched out his arms.

"No," she said dismissively and pulled a face.

"What do you mean, no?" he mimicked her disgust face.

Clarke shrugged. "I'm just not going," she said.

"Why not?" Bellamy demanded. "This is your school, you should have a vested interest in your hockey team."

"Well I don't," she frowned.

"What, you don't like _hockey_?" Bellamy asked incredulously.

"It's not that I don't like it," she wrinkled her nose, "it's just that its frustrating to watch."

"And why's that?" Bellamy tilted back in his chair.

"It's just so sloppy," Clarke said.

"Sloppy? It's sloppy?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, yeah, in comparison to soccer."

Bellamy didn't move an inch, he only exhaled hard through his nose and glared at her. After a moment he closed his eyes.

"Don't do this," he whispered.

"I'm not," Clarke said. "You asked-"

"You're so contrary," he tilted the chair forward again and scrubbed his face in his hands.

"I'm not," Clarke insisted. "It's just that when I watch hockey, I wish the passing was tighter."

"Oh god," he moaned.

"Okay, come look at this," Clarke said firmly and twisted around in her seat to face her computer. She started clacking away on the keyboard and Bellamy's curiosity got the better of him. He stood up and moved over to stand behind Clarke's chair.

"Look," she gestured to the screen, "just look at this."

Bellamy leaned down to stare at the monitor, one hand on the back of her chair and the other flat on the table.

"What am I looking at?" his voice buzzed close to her ear.

"Barcelona highlights," Clarke said. "Look at the way they play- short passes, tiki-taka, just keeping possession and always passing to a player."

Bellamy stared at the screen, his eyes tracking the ball.

"Can you imagine if hockey teams played like this?" Clarke asked. "_Then_ I'd watch."

Bellamy pulled his eyes from the screen and trained them on her.  
>"What?" she shifted under his stare.<p>

"It's not a bad idea," he grunted. He returned to his table and cracked open his textbook.

Clarke turned in her seat and stared at him.

"What?" he asked without looking up from his book.

She hesitated.

"I think we should force some team bonding on everyone," Clarke said.

"What?" Bellamy looked up, a laugh falling from his lips. "Clarke, we're not on the same team."

"Okay, inter-team bonding," she rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "God, you can be so pedantic," she muttered.

"What was that?" he asked, eyes crinkling.

Clarke took a deep breath. "In the interest of inter-team bonding, I am not going to repeat myself."

"Alright."

"Anyway," Clarke continued, "last practice was sort of tense and I don't want any animosity to break out between the teams. Jaha would jump all over that."

"It was tense because your skaters kept scooping pucks every time they came near your end."

"They only started doing that because your boys keep trash talking Finn and Wells."

Bellamy snorted. "It's not trash talk, its just locker room banter."

Clarke glared at him.

"Alright, fine," he relented. "Inter-team bonding- what do you have in mind?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I was thinking breakfast."

"Breakfast?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Practice ends at 7 and class doesn't start til 8:30 so we could all get breakfast together," she said.

"That's no good," Bellamy shook his head. "We should make them all do suicides together."

"Why?"

"Best way to bond people together is shared struggle," Bellamy shrugged.

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?" he asked. "It worked for you and me."

Clarke looked to the ceiling and mouthed wordlessly.

"Alright, fine," he huffed. "Breakfast it is."

The very next day, 24 hungry athletes charged into Sally's Diner after a grueling practice. With a certain degree of alarm, the waitress pushed several tables together and handed out sticky menus. Soon enough, the hockey team and the skaters were crammed together, elbow to elbow and tucked into plates heaping with scrambled eggs, French toast, and crispy bacon. Bellamy ordered the boys to be nice and wedged himself in next to Clarke.

"Bellamy," she said through a mouthful. "Take one of my pancakes," she commanded and slid her plate towards his elbow.

"Benevolent princess," he rolled his eyes and played with his phone. "I don't need your charity," he muttered in an undertone.

"It's not charity, you ass- I can't eat four pancakes."

He shot her a withering stare. "Then why did you _order_ four pancakes? They come in twos."

Her cheeks warmed slightly under his glare. "Fine," she sighed. "I ordered for you. Don't think I didn't notice that you only ordered tea. You need to carb load, you're working out too much not to."

"I do carb load," he said through gritted teeth. "I just do it at home where I don't have to pay ten dollars for a plate. I'm not starving, princess. You don't need to feed me table scraps."

"Well you're eating them today whether you like it or not," she said forcefully. "I really _can't _eat four pancakes," she added, a hint of panic in her voice. She pushed the plate even closer to him and forced a fork into his hand. "Half is mine, half is yours, like always," she insisted.

He looked at her then, eyes narrowed and a smile threatening to crack his face.

"Don't get cute." he warned.

He finished the pancakes.


End file.
